On Writing and Life…oh, and a New Book!

One day I realized I was letting that bitch take my creativity from me….

Something happened several years ago that resulted in the loss of friendships, the loss of someone I’d considered a brother, but at the same time helped me break free from a cycle of manipulation that, under different circumstances had I not just had the love of my life walk out on me, never would have had me in the position in the first place. Vulnerability is a cunt. Now, the incident itself isn’t what’s important here; it’s the after-effects I’d like to discuss, but we need to backtrack a bit first.

Prior to the aforementioned incident, my world fell apart. Everything that I’d worked for and built started slipping away when someone I’d trusted more than anyone aside from my own mother betrayed me on a level that was too familiar. I didn’t know about the betrayal right away, however; it would be another four years before I learned of its existence, but on a level most don’t understand, I knew it was there…even before it happened. Confused? So was I for the first two years, not knowing why my world was crumbling. At any rate, shit happened and I tumbled down a spiral of depression. A good deal of it appears on this blog, and it was in the midst of that depression that the incident occurred.

Jumping forward again…. After the aforementioned incident, I had a difficult time writing much of anything. Every bit of it was a struggle, like I’d lost the drive to put words to paper. It was essentially like this person completely ruined writing for me, and in a way they had, and all I’d been able to do until recently was edit older novels and other authors’ books. I didn’t write for a good portion of these last eight years with exception to a couple of short stories and anthologies, but I’m slowly working myself back into the habit. It’s been a real bitch to do, but I try to get at least some words down. If I’m going to be honest here, I haven’t had a lot of success until recently, but it mostly happens on the weekends or during long breaks from work (school district). It was over a weekend earlier this year that I had the realization I’d allowed this to happen (the non-creativity part), and that I’d allowed someone to (figuratively) take that from me.

How could I have let this happen? I asked myself this question numerous times that night. Again, vulnerability is a cunt. There is a level of depression where you inadvertently allow people to have power over you. I’m a fairly strong person. I’m the one who stands strong when my family succumbs to sorrow. But even the strong can crumble. My ex leaving was devastating…and so, I crumbled. Once I’d realized what had happened and how, and once I forgave myself, something changed inside me. A spark re-lit the creativity.

Since then, I’ve actually been writing. And it has been glorious.

I’ve put in quite a few words this year, even for me these days, but I’m damn proud of those words because it’s taken me over two years to write this novella, and it’s currently about to release. It’s a bit longer than I intended, but if that’s what it takes to tell the story, then that’s fine by me.

Have a look….

When you’re the Prince of Darkness, how do you find true love?

Aside from lacking in the love department, Luc is having difficulty maintaining Hell and desperately needs a vacation, but when you’re the type to take on everything yourself and don’t always delegate, bad things tend to happen. Like when the harpies escaped and nearly took out a small village, or when his dog got loose and took on the traits of its father, the guard dog from Hell. If Luc doesn’t get his life together soon, there will literally be hell to pay. Behind every semi-functional man is a great woman keeping his ass in line. Considering Hell’s state of affairs, solitary life hasn’t really worked out for him thus far. Luc needs a woman, and soon. Is true love even attainable for the first Fallen?

Badboy69Lonely Devil looking for a match made in Hell. Must love dogs…and play well with demons.

Seph keeps finding love in all the wrong places, and is tired of men breaking her heart. Joining a dating site wasn’t the brightest idea, but when she meets Luc, it seems as though the Universe finally grants her wish. She gets bad boy, hot, and powerful all rolled into one. Little does she know: Luc is the one and only Prince of Darkness.

26ProserpinaLonely Maiden looking for the king to her queen, to rule the world together.

The Devil of Dating is available in eBook and Print formats on Amazon. I will be attending Phoenix Comicon over Memorial Day weekend and will have a few copies available, as well as copies of Dusk of Death and The 434 Revolution. Come on by the booth and say hi, and enter to win a Kindle Fire or a signed book from yours truly! If you can’t make it to comicon, I’ll be holding an online giveaway that weekend as well.

See ya soon!


The Secret Life of Jinxie G: Part III


Depression corner

I’d started this post last week, but then it became entirely too personal. Depression had reared its ever-so-ugly head yet again, but I’ve got a handle on it now and can write somewhat sanely about it. You know that edge of depression, where you’re fucking teetering, about to lose your balance and fall over? I’d passed that breaking point several weeks back. You may or may not have noticed it. So I’d like to talk a bit about depression today.

But let’s first talk about my wonderful allergies! I know, you’re so excited. And you know that I’ve struggled with this since February, which has of course, caused bouts of depression due to the HIVES covering my body. There isn’t much more frustrating than trying to go about your day and figure out what you can eat that won’t make you break out in hives or cause more. And living in the State of Perpetual Heat hasn’t helped at all. But….

I recently–FINALLY–saw an allergist and guess what? I’m not allergic to food. Nope. It turns out that what I’m really allergic to is…grasses and weeds. You know, typical allergy bullshit, only I’m like really allergic to them, apparently. Prescription medication combined with OTC medication 24-hour dose twice a day PLUS my pseudophedrine Claritin-wannabe allergic to this shit. Which is fine. Because I CAN EAT AGAIN!

Mostly, anyway. Certain foods do cause a pollen reaction, like bananas and grapes, and gluten products still make me queasy unless they’re organic. But apparently that food allergy test has a 90% false positive rate. Remember that, folks. Essentially, my immune system freaked out for some reason. And the worst time of year in this state for those specific allergies is between March and November. Not much of a reprieve there; only a couple of months, since mine started in February. But still, Phew! Let’s hope this area of my health is figured out because if there’s one thing that annoys the fuck out of me, it is doctors not having any kind of success in figuring me out.

Now I just have to deal with the weight gain. It’s called lack of activity. I sit behind a desk all day, and then I go home and sit behind a desk. Because I have more than one job. And really, as a writer, I wear many hats: writer, editor, researcher, designer, formatter, critic, etc. They all require me to sit behind a desk. So while my jobs require this of me, I have to make time for activity, whether it be working out on the elliptical, going for a walk during a break or at lunch while I’m at work, doing something, anything on the weekend that requires physical activity (which rarely happens). Thing is, as a single female who’s inclined to follow the road to Hermitdom because fuck most people and their bullshit drama fake reality whatever (with exception to friends), I need to get up and move because there’s no significant other to say, “Hey, let’s go hike A mountain,” or “Woohoo! It’s Sunday Funday. Get that bike out from under the mountain of clothes, woman!” or the like. I need to make myself do it, and really, I’d rather not. Road trips, though, I miss those. I bought some 5-lb. weights just for my “office” so even when I’m sitting in my chair working or watching whatever, I can pick up those weights and do something for my arms and chest and upper back. When I’m playing the Assassin’s Creed games where I’m vigorously running around the globe killing people, I’ll stand up during a cut scene and do squats and stretches just to keep the blood flowing. One of my co-workers, whom I call Ponch, says that he’ll do push-ups or squats during cut scenes and the like.

Getting back to depression, which weight gain can also trigger….


Depression comes in many types, and pain and lack of activity help push it along, all of which I’ve experienced. It’s difficult for me to talk about something I’ve had to live with my entire life. I’m used to the darkness, maybe even comfortable with it, which can be a dangerous place to be. If you get comfy down in that dark and dreary well, you might not climb back out. Worst case scenario has me at two years to climb out. Then there’s getting to your feet and standing up straight. Last go ’round took me another two years after climbing out of the well. I’d suffered with a pinched nerve during those four years. If you’ve never felt that level of pain, I hope you never have to. I don’t like being miserable. It makes it too easy to feel sorry for myself and make excuses. And that will drown you in the well.

I’ve climbed out of the well a few times, on my own. I didn’t seek help because when I was 19, I did, and that particular counselor left such a good first impression on me that I declined to seek counseling to save my marriage many years ago. Is it good for me to feel this way about that profession? Absolutely not. But it’s something I need to deal with, and it is just not at the top of my priority list these days.

But you should seek help, especially if you’re feeling suicidal. I learned how to deal with my suicidal tendencies years ago. You are not me.

My main problem is that I never learned coping skills. I don’t know how to deal, but the weird thing is that I sort of do. Big Problem occurs, I freak the ever-living fuck out, then I sit down and think of Solutions. That’s how I cope. Not sure it’s actually coping, but it works for me. I just try my best to not do it in public. They’d lock me up at 24th & Van Buren.

People deal with shit every goddamn day of their lives. Every person you pass on the street, in the hall, smile at…or don’t…is dealing with something possibly overwhelming and horrible. And everyone deals with it in their own way. That way may not always be productive, but as the child of an alcoholic (recovering), I know you can’t force someone to do something they’re not ready for just yet. But you can listen.


Last week, the world got a small look at one of my rare meltdowns. I just happened to be showing a bit more online than I normally would. Not sure why yet. Maybe because I wanted the world to die. Maybe not. I’d like to think I’m nothing compared to what’s happening in the really real world. That I’m not important unless I’m starting a war or making some stupid-ass statement while running for President or creating interstellar space travel (but my name is not Elon Musk and my IQ isn’t quite that high). But I’m just a fucking writer with a seriously fucked up life that’s been difficult to deal with, and I know there are people who have it worse, but that’s the thing about depression; it drags you down and when you’re drowning, you can’t see anyone else. My world fell out from under my feet two months ago, and I’ve been dealing with the repercussions since then. Literally, everything hit me in one big dump, so imagine my surprise that I’ve held it together this long.


Life, eh? Yeah, we all know she’s the biggest bitch around.

For now, I’m okay, and that’s all that matters. Okay is good. Okay is workable.

If you’re experiencing Depression, you can learn more about the big D here. At the very least, talk to someone you know and trust. I have very few people I trust, and even less that I would talk to on such a deep level. Last week, I broke down in someone’s office. I’ve known her for over 15 years and she’s one of few who knows my situation and that I trust enough to talk to about it.

And she listened. That’s all. And that’s exactly what I needed.

SUICIDE PREVENTION HOTLINE: 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)
Use that same number and press “1” to reach the Veterans Crisis Line.


That Feeling…

…when even though you’re surrounded by people, you feel utterly alone.

Ever feel like that?

It’s been almost 20 years since I’ve been without a dog in the house. Twenty. Fucking. Years. I can’t even really begin to describe how it feels aside from the statement above. I miss my Moonbug, my K’Lar, my MacLeod, my Scully…my Leo, who’s still alive but I’ll never see him again. Not having a dog in my house is a whole new kind of loneliness I’ve only ever felt once in my life. It’s torment.

But there’s more…

It has now been almost one week since I quit smoking. Yeah, I know. Yay for me. Woo-hoo. Go Jinxie! That’s not how I feel, though. I started smoking (cloves) when I was 15. A year later, I moved to cigarettes. Not sure why, but I did. I hate the taste and smell of cigarettes, but I like smoking. Yes, that’s damn weird for someone who’s smoked for nearly 30 years. I’ve quit at least 3 times. Once for 2 years. I can’t even remember why I started again, except for the last time. That was when I had the miscarriage. That life-altering event amongst many life-altering events that have warped my life into something unrecognizable.

And they would, because I certainly do most of the time…when I can actually see the stars.

But wait, there’s more…

I had a breakdown on Saturday morning. I hadn’t had one of those in a while, so I guess it was due, but still. Damn. It was a conglomeration of every single damn thing that is happening to me. Those two things above. The constant pain. The fatigue. I’m fucking tired, people.

Regardless of the feeling alone, of the pain, of the fatigue, of feeling like a failure at times because I’m 43 and so NOT where I wanted to be at this age…I said many years ago that I wanted to retire by 40. This is NOT the kind of retirement I was talking about…but regardless of all of it, I still somehow push forward with a strength I don’t understand, my grandfather’s words echoing in my head…

You’re strong enough for this, for what’s coming

What the FUCK does that mean, gramps? Honestly. Could you be any more vague?

At any rate, I still push forward, working out, trying to eat better, not smoking so I don’t die in 10 years, working on getting Running Ink Press somewhere so I have a legacy to give to no one, do whatever I can for Zombie Survival Crew, do the ghostwriting, and somewhere in the midst of all of that I try to find time to work on my own goddamn books…through the pain and the fog and the fatigue.

But I’m still really fucking tired, and there are some days when I just don’t want to get out of bed because what’s the point? Really. I hate feeling like this, and it’s not the first time I’ve been here. Though I haven’t quite fallen into the well again, so that’s a good start. For the past 20 years, those dogs have gotten me out of bed.

Now, I do it all for Umi, though I really wish I could do more for her. That’s when I feel like a failure. When I ask that question, “What the fuck is my purpose here if I can’t DO anything in this condition?”

I write, yes. That doesn’t require physical exertion, thank the gods, but it does require a clear mind. When the fog isn’t there, I create worlds, destroy some of them, kill people who piss me off, bring people together…make you laugh, cry, jump out of your seat or throw the book across the room. I make my worlds real for you so when you read them, they punch you in the gut when you close the book, because then it’s over and you don’t want it to end.

You have no idea how much I live in those worlds, because reality bites.

But I still need to make money, to work a job (if I can find one), just like the rest of the world. And physically, I can’t do most jobs anymore. So, writing, it is. That’s how I have to make a living, folks. When you buy a book from RIP, I get a percentage of that. Same with ZSC. When you buy my jewelry or crafts, I get most of that. This is all I have left. That’s not meant to guilt you into buying something. It just is. This is how I live now.

It’s depressing. It’s daunting. It’s fucking stupid that I’ve been placed in this position, and it makes me wonder if I asked to be challenged far beyond that which I ever have in any other lifetime. Seriously. My life has been a series of road blocks.

I know we make our own destiny. I’m trying to carve mine, but sometimes, you don’t get all the tools you need to carve that path, so you have to improvise. Mostly, it just pisses me off that some people are handed every tool necessary and the rest of us have to figure shit out on our own.

I guess I should take a clue from my K’Lar….

…and always look over the edge.

Opportunities lie in wait in the oddest of places.

You have no idea how high that cliff was. She scared the hell out of me that day, even though I stopped freaking out long enough to snap this photo. K’Lar was damn bold for her 65 lbs.

I should be more like her.

I have a hammer, a chisel, and some rope for getting down that cliff, and I’ll be carving my own path from this point forward, because I’m fucking tired of playing by everybody else’s rules. I WILL be releasing two vamp books this year, and possibly another book. And nothing is going to stop me short of death!